


That Girl

by treewishes



Category: Agent X (TV 2015)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:57:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8891674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treewishes/pseuds/treewishes
Summary: That girl was so clever. Olga could see why John loved her.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LithiumDoll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LithiumDoll/gifts).



Five times Olga underestimated Pamela, before she finally stopped doing that.

  1. _That girl knew her stuff_



The girl was almost gone before she noticed. Olga had to move fast to get her bag and manage to ‘run into’ her on the way out of the gym.

“I’m sorry,” she said, as they bumped shoulders. She smiled engagingly. “Oh, you were next to me at the barre, yes? I’m Olga.”

She let herself breathe when it worked. “Yes, hello,” the girl said as they went down the stairs. “I’m Pamela.”

Olga stepped down onto the pavement and turned around. She glanced up at the beautiful, sunny April day before meeting Pamela's eyes. “Well, Pamela, I was just going to have some lunch. Are you hungry?”

Pamela hesitated, but Olga had done her research and knew she always had lunch after class, usually an avocado salad at the café under the gym.

Halfway through her lunch, Pamela started the conversation, asking, "So what do you do?" like every conversation started in this city. Olga said she worked at the Embassy, and returned the question, as though she had no idea that Pamela was even a lawyer. let alone at one of the most prestigious offices in Washington. A few more innocent questions, and Pamela was giving her the insider details of the scandal that had just hit the news that morning. 

Olga sat back in her chair, enjoying the analysis and hearing the differences--and the similarities--between American politics and Russian mob tactics. Pamela definitely had a talent to understand what motivated people. It was something Olga herself had spent years learning, first from Genya, then from Nicholas.

They finished their food, but the conversation went on. She was telling Pamela about the time she met Putin, and found she couldn’t keep her eyes off of Pamela’s face. Olga had known that John loved this girl, but she hadn’t understood it. Pamela was special. She hadn’t expected that.

As they walked back onto the street almost two hours later, Pamela touched her arm. “Olga, do you have plans tonight?”

Olga tilted her head. “No, nothing. You?”

Pamela nodded. “I have tickets to the Correspondents’ Dinner at the Hilton,” she nodded toward the hotel. “Please come with me, it would be fun to go with someone.”

Olga blinked at her, swallowing her surprise. “I would love to! Of course, it would be fun to go with you,” she said, giving Pamela a hug. “Thank you so much. Is it very fancy? I love getting dressed up.”

“Well, I don’t so much, but one must at this thing. Here, let me text you. Meet me there around 6 pm?”

  1. _That girl was so clever._



Olga watched with appreciation as she followed Pamela up the steps to the ballroom. That dress was so gorgeous, and the whole event was dripping with gems, plenty each of real and paste, with beautiful people everywhere. Yet Olga was more fascinated by Pamela, greeting all of the important people, sharing a few words or a meaningful look with everyone who was anyone. She never introduced Olga, just took her hand and whispered in her ear when they needed to navigate a crowd.

That girl was so clever. Olga could see why John loved her. She was using this to show that she was over David Williams’ death. No one would be talking about the funeral after tonight, they would all be talking about Pamela’s mysterious female companion.

After the dinner and too many speeches, this was Washington after all, they made their way out of the ballroom. Pamela again worked her magic; kissing cheek after powerful cheek, promising to call soon, nodding at people across the room. She and Olga walked, arm in arm, past the huge line for the coat check to the door where one of the waiters was waiting with their wraps. Pamela had “taken care of it.”  

They walked out into the cool night air. “I should get a cab--” Olga started, but Pamela shook her head.

“My office is just around the corner,” she said, leaning in. “Come with me, we can have a drink.”

“A real drink?” Olga asked. Neither had done more than sip the cheap champagne the hotel had served. “You have something good?”

“Oh, honey,” Pamela replied, walking purposely down the hill.

  1. _That girl had a plan_



“I love champagne,” Olga sighed, taking a long drink. She leaned back on the butter-soft leather. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Pamela poured more champagne. “You tell me.”

“I have no idea, but believe me, I’m enjoying it,” Olga said lightly.

Pamela shook her head. “No idea? Seriously, Olga Petrovka, how long did you think you could avoid cameras at a dinner with that kind of security?”

Olga narrowed her eyes, with the cold realization that Pamela had just switched to Russian. Fluent Russian. And Pamela knew who she was-- the girl was so smart. “Long enough, Pamela Richardson,” she replied, raising her glass in a toast. Of course, Olga knew she would be recognized at some point and would have to run to the embassy, but hopefully not until she’d learned what Pamela knew about John. Olga slowly placed her glass on the table, taking in the distance to the door, the balcony and the drop to the street, and the variety of weapons around the room.

“Relax," Pamela said, leaning back. "I took the opportunity to hack your agency files this afternoon. You have a current visa now, and your old profile pictures look a lot like a young Natalie Wood.” She lifted her glass in a toast. "Clearly, that was another Olga Petrovka who broke out of FBI custody."

“Well, this evening has been full of surprises.” Olga drank more of the excellent champagne and resolved never to underestimate Pamela Richardson again. “And now please tell me, what game are you playing?”

“The same game you are. Trying to protect John.”

“Ah,” she nodded, glad her cards were all on the table. “Do you know where he is?”

Pamela picked up her glass and the bottle and sat down at her desk as four huge screens lit up on the far wall, covered with maps and photos. Mexico, Olga recognized the area.

“Have you heard of El Diablo?” Pamela asked.

Olga had. That girl was brilliant.

  1. _That girl could pull it off_



Olga surveyed the crowd around the pool, wondering when Dante would make an appearance. This island might be a wretched hive of scum and villainy, but it certainly had style. And then, right on time, there was John in a perfect summer suit, walking toward her. That girl was so smart, Olga thought, pulling down her sunglasses to better acknowledge his approach.

“Olga Petrovka,” John said, his eyes raking over her white thong bathing suit. “In the flesh.”

“Hello again, Just John.”

“I see you hopped back into bed with your enemy.”

“Hmmm,” she said, inspecting her tan. He had no idea how difficult it had been to get back into Volker’s good graces. Impossible without Pamela’s help. “ We reconciled our differences. Why don’t you and I reconcile ours? Do my back,” she said, holding out her bottle of tanning oil. “Please?”

John, sadly, insisted on talking business, as they mutually assessed Dante Caine’s attractive and highly skilled security staff.

Olga caught a glimpse of Pamela making her way around the pool and quickly changed the subject. “You think too much, John. Why not just,” she sighed, “enjoy yourself?”

“I’m here to work, Olga.”

“Too much work and no play makes John a dull boy, yes?” She asked, stretching provocatively, as much for Pamela’s benefit as for John’s. “I can think of a lot of ways for us to play... and I promise none of them are dull.”

Right on cue. “John? What are you doing here?” Pamela asked, all blonde innocence. That girl was so good at this.

“Hi,” John stammered. He was so cute when he was stunned into silence. “What are you doing here?”

“I was personally invited by Mr. Caine,” Pamela answered easily.

Olga slid to her feet. “This must be the girl you told me absolutely nothing about, John.” Playing with him was almost too easy.

Pamela extended her hand. “Pamela Richardson,” she said. “And you are?”

“Olga,” she squeezed Pamela’s hand a little harder than necessary as they shook.

“Olga....?” Pamela asked.

“Nope. Just Olga,” she said sweetly, reaching up to touch John’s hair. “John and I did a lot of traveling together. We had some very special times, didn’t we, John?”

To John’s obvious relief, Pamela’s amusement, and Olga’s vast disappointment, Dante interrupted them.

Olga watched with amusement when Dante tried to kiss Pamela. Olga actually felt a little sorry for him; that girl was deadly in her black bikini. She was not surprised as all when Pamela politely dismissed both Dante and John and walked away.

As she sat back on the chaise and reviewed the plans Pamela had laid out, Olga could feel they were nearing the end game. She was going to miss the chase when it was over. It wouldn’t be long before she wouldn’t be working with Pamela in her office with the leather sofa, plotting and planning over take-out blintzes and champagne. That was something she would miss, too.

  1. _That girl could handle herself_



Olga checked again to make sure she wasn’t being followed, then opened the hidden door on the passage behind the Archives off 7th Street. The directions made more sense now, as she made her way down the long staircase and along the old stone in the passages. Finally at the end, she took a deep breath and stepped through the sliding door.

“Hello, Just John,” she said. 

John stood up and closed the book he was reading.  He frowned as he set it down. “Olga. You can call me just John now, you know,” he said. “I mean, John, no just. Now that you’re part of the team.”

“It wouldn’t be the same,” she said, dropping her jacket on the chair by the door. He didn’t seem to be favoring the side where he’d been stabbed in Paris, and the bruises on his face were mostly faded.  “You look good,” she told him.

He held up his hand. “Olga. I know we’ve had this talk already, but if we’re going to work together, we need to have boundaries.”

“Oh, John,” Olga said, patting him on the arm. “We have plenty of those. The question is whether you have a passport, isn’t it?” 

Just then, the door slid open again, and Pamela joined them.

"Hi, boss," Olga said brightly, kissing her cheek. She looked stunning. When Nicholas had kidnapped Pamela, Olga had heard about it through John first, and spent about 10 seconds worrying before realizing that she could do nothing about it from the other side of the world. And then, only a few hours later, getting a text from Pamela that she was fine. Of course, that girl could handle herself, even though she pretended that someone else had saved her.

“Hello, Agents,” Pamela said, simple as sunshine. “I suppose we’ll need to name one of you Agent Y now.  Otherwise, how will I be able to tell you apart?”

“I would think that would be easy,” John said, then, “Hey, does she have a code name? Joanne? Juanita?”

“Ivanka,” Olga answered.  She slipped her arm around Pamela’s waist.  “What do you think?” she asked, pulling her close.

John gave Pamela a look, his eyes flickering to Olga and back again. "When you said you knew Olga, I didn't think that was biblical..."

Pamela shrugged. "It's not. Well," she paused. "Not yet." Then she grinned. “Apparently, I may need to ask for an Olga exception."

Olga stopped breathing for just a second as the new world order snicked into place. She had some idea of how Pamela had convinced John to come back to the Agent X program after listening in on his end of their phone calls, but she had no idea how Pamela had managed to hire a former Russian operative into it as well. Then Olga finally stopped being surprised by everything Pamela was capable of. That girl was amazing.

She tilted her head to Pamela's and gave John a look. "And why do you think I was so confused that my gypsy babushka’s sign was telling me you were the right man? What does that mean, when there’s also a right woman?" she asked, snuggling further against Pamela.

John still looked stunned and a little bit disappointed, so Olga took pity on him. "But maybe you need to ask for an Olga exception?"

Pamela turned to look at her, then at John. "I'm okay with that."

Before John could close his mouth, an alert popped up on the screen and all of their phones buzzed at the same time. Pamela was suddenly all business as she began pulling map after map up on the console. “It looks like we’re going to need both Agent X and Agent Y on this one. Malcolm is in play.”

John only looked slightly less stunned as he got to work. Olga decided it was a good look for him.


End file.
